A haughty endeavor we try as we fight to live and laugh and grow into something more.
Who is to say one man can be above all other, or that one land found rich will sustain time’s pursuit? Why fight when all will end?
“The desire of joy, of splendor, of love can withstand time itself”, but can we?
Man was meant not to rise but to be content, yet ascension persists and swiftly buys another fleeting glance of it, of a world unobtainable in these bloodied, bruised hands;
to give in to the sharp-tongued liar, to stop the quick-footed thief, is to perish under the oppressive boot of our wondrous world.
But we try to live and laugh and grow against the odds out of pure spite, a desire and instinct too deep and internal to win against.
When the words that bring hope and light dry up; when the large oak’s shade grows too cold to stand; when the crops wilt and wither away to dust, what is left but greed?
What is left, save for a flickering flame, a passionate spark in the absence of our sun that drives us to the lone light?
And though we try, though reason disguised with optimism leads our cause, we triumph only with that fire and burn the path we pave so that no others may follow.
So we live and laugh and grow at a cost, one deemed fair by us and only us, and we are plagued by the ghosts which haunt us-- with good reason.
And when the time comes that we find the end of our journey, only then do we turn to discover what flames we left in our wake.
Only then we realize our mistakes and beg for more time, for more strength, for just one more glimpse of our wondrous world.
Only then do we discover that our greed destroyed us.